I stared at the wooden ceiling for what felt like hours, tracking the knots and grain patterns like they held some secret code. My bandaged hands throbbed in time with my heartbeat, but the pain had dulled to a manageable ache. The winterroot poultice was working its magic.
"Status," I muttered, waiting for the familiar translucent screen to appear before my eyes.
IDENTITY
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NAME: ISAIAH ANGELO
CLASS: [LOCKED]
TITLE: [LOCKED]
TIER: [LOCKED]
ATTRIBUTES
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STRENGTH: F [0]
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INTELLIGENCE: F [0]
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AGILITY: F [0]
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VITALITY: F [0]
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PERCEPTION: F [0]
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ACTIVE ABILITIES
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
① [LOCKED]
② [LOCKED]
③ [LOCKED]
PASSIVE ABILITIES
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
① [LOCKED]
② [LOCKED]
③ [LOCKED]
ARTIFACTS
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
① [NONE]
"Still jack shit," I sighed, dismissing the screen.
I shifted on the cot, trying to find a position that didn't aggravate some injury. My mind drifted to what awaited me after this trial. The system had made it clear—this was an S-ranked timer trial. The hardest of the hard. The kind that broke most people who attempted them.
But those who survived... they didn't just become Awakened. They became legends.
I'd heard stories. The rare few who completed S-rank trials emerged with classes that defied conventional categorization. The kind of power that opened doors no amount of money or connections ever could.
Even as a Novice—the lowest tier—I'd have options that never existed for someone from the Depths. Real options. Not the desperate scrambling I'd done my entire life.
"And maybe a title," I whispered to the empty room.
Titles were even rarer than S-rank aspects. They weren't chosen or granted—they manifested naturally when an Awakened did something extraordinary. Something that resonated with the very fabric of the Domain itself.
Would surviving this hellscape be enough? Killing the Winter King? Reaching the Temple of Echoes?
I closed my eyes, picturing it. Isaiah Angelo, [Something Impressive] of the [Something Badass]. The words would appear beneath my name on my status screen, a permanent badge of honor. More than that—a catalyst that would accelerate my growth far beyond normal rates.
A smile crept across my face as I thought about what day it was back in the real world when I'd been pulled into this trial. June 11th. If my calculations were right, that gave me just over three months to prepare for the Equinox after I awakened.
The Equinox Dive. The ultimate risk and ultimate reward.
Most normal people think any awakened was crazy for even considering it. The mortality rate was astronomical. But those who attempted it... their families received the stipend. A lifetime of guaranteed income, housing in the upper districts, premium medical care. And if you survived…
Mom wouldn't have to work double shifts at the processing plant anymore. The core dust slowly killing her lungs could be dealt with permanently. Miri could attend any school she wanted, not just the one I was secretly paying for.
One trial. One dive. And my family would be set for life.
"First things first," I reminded myself. "Survive this icy hellhole."
The door creaked open. I turned my head to see Laina step inside, stomping snow from her boots. Her cheeks were flushed from the cold, making the small scar beneath her left eye stand out against her skin.
"You're still awake," she said, hanging her bow on a peg by the door. "How are the hands?"
I flexed my fingers experimentally. "Better. Your winterroot works."
"It should. We've had generations to perfect it." She moved to the fire, adding another log. Sparks spiraled upward as she poked at the embers. "The elders have called a meeting. They want to speak with you."
I sat up straighter. "About the Temple?"
"About everything." She turned to face me, the firelight catching in her violet eyes. "Your story has spread through Visall. Some think you're a sign. Others think you're a threat."
"And what do you think?"
She studied me for a long moment, her gaze searching. "I think you're something else entirely."
I swung my legs off the cot, testing my weight. My muscles protested, but I could stand. "Something good or something bad?"
"That remains to be seen." She tossed me a bundle of clothing. "These should fit. Can't have you meeting the elders looking like a half-dead vagrant."
I caught the bundle with my bandaged hands, suppressing a wince. "I assume there's food at this meeting? I'm starving."
"Yes," she said, one corner of her mouth quirking upward. "Though I should warn you—their hospitality doesn't mean they trust you."
"Story of my life." I shook out the clothes—thick wool trousers, a heavy linen shirt, and a fur-lined vest. Better quality than anything I'd owned back in the Depths. "Turn around."
She rolled her eyes but obliged, facing the door while I changed. The fabric was rough against my skin, but the warmth it provided was immediate and welcome.
"Do I get shoes, or are bare feet the fashion in Visall?" I asked, pulling the vest closed.
Laina turned back, eyeing me critically. "Boots by the door. They might be a bit large, but stuff them with straw if you must."
I located the boots—heavy leather things with thick soles—and pulled them on. They were indeed a size too big, but after nearly freezing to death, I wasn't about to complain.
"How do I look?" I asked, spreading my arms. "Elder-meeting appropriate?"
Laina's expression remained serious, but something in her eyes softened. "You'll do. Just remember—these people have lost much to the Winter King's curse. Their questions will be direct. Their judgment, harsh."
"I'm used to harsh judgment."
"Realy?" She stepped closer, adjusting the collar of my vest. Her fingers brushed my neck, warm against my skin. "Because the last man who came to Visall claiming to know how to reach the Temple was executed as a liar and a heretic."
I caught her wrist. "Is that a threat?"
"A warning." She didn't pull away, her pulse steady beneath my fingertips. "Be honest with them. As honest as you can be."
The unspoken implication hung between us—she knew I wasn't telling the whole truth. But she hadn't exposed me. Not yet.
I released her wrist. "Lead the way."
Outside, the settlement was bathed in the strange half-light of early evening. The storm had passed, leaving the sky clear and pierced with stars. Smoke rose from chimneys in thin columns that disappeared into the darkness. People moved between buildings, carrying firewood, water, and other supplies. Several stopped to stare as we passed.
"Is that him?"
"The outlander..."
"...claims he can end the curse..."
The whispers followed us like shadows.
Laina led me to the second largest building in the settlement—a long hall with a high, peaked roof. Carved wooden pillars flanked the entrance, each etched with symbols I couldn't decipher. Two men stood guard, their hands resting on sword hilts. They nodded to Laina but eyed me with open suspicion.
"The elders await," one said, pushing open the heavy door.
Heat and light spilled out. Inside, a massive hearth dominated the far wall, a fire roaring within it. Long tables lined the hall, most empty now except for the one nearest the fire. There sat five elderly people—three men and two women—each bearing the weathered look of those who had survived decades in this frozen hell.
Around them stood others—younger men and women who I guessed held positions of importance in Visall. And among them, to my immediate displeasure, stood Joran, his arms crossed over his chest.
Our eyes met across the hall. His expression remained neutral, but tension radiated from his stance.
"Approach, outlander," called one of the elders, a white-bearded man with one milky eye. "Let us look upon the one who claims to know the secret of the Temple of Echoes."
Laina nudged me forward. I straightened my back and walked toward them, keeping my face composed despite the weight of every gaze in the room.
"Isaiah Angelo," I said, stopping before their table. "That's my name, since I'm sure you're wondering."
The white-bearded elder leaned forward. "I am Tannin, First Elder of Visall. These are my fellow elders—Mora, Harek, Senna, and Dorn."
I nodded to each in turn. "An honor."
"Is it?" Elder Mora asked, her voice surprisingly strong for her frail appearance. "Or merely a necessity?"
"Both can be true," I replied.
Tannin gestured to an empty chair across from them. "Sit. Eat. Then we will speak of temples and curses and visions."
I took the offered seat. A young woman placed a wooden bowl before me, filled with some kind of thick stew. The scent made my stomach growl embarrassingly loud. Another server brought bread and a mug of something steaming.
"Eat," Tannin repeated. "A man thinks better with a full belly."
I didn't need to be told again. I tore into the food, barely tasting it in my hunger. The stew was rich with unfamiliar meat and root vegetables. The bread dense and hearty. The drink turned out to be some kind of spiced cider that warmed me from the inside out.
As I ate, I studied the elders. Each wore multiple layers of furs and wool, adorned with small tokens—carved bone, polished stones, bits of metal. Symbols of status, perhaps, or protective talismans. Their faces told stories of hardship, survival, and loss.
When I finally set down my spoon, Elder Harek—a bald man with a face like cracked leather—spoke.
"Laina tells us you claim to have had visions. Visions of the Temple of Echoes."
I nodded. "Three nights in a row. The same dream."
"Describe it," commanded Elder Senna, her silver hair bound in complex braids around her head.
I leaned back in my chair, choosing my words carefully. "A mountain pass higher than any I've seen before. A temple of white stone that seems to glow from within. Inside, a heart of blue fire, frozen in time."
The elders exchanged glances. Something passed between them—recognition, perhaps, or concern.
"And in these visions," Tannin said, "you saw yourself ending the Winter King's curse?"
"I saw myself standing before him," I clarified. "The outcome wasn't shown to me. Only the path."
"Convenient," muttered Joran from where he stood.
I ignored him, keeping my focus on the elders. "I know how it sounds. But I've traveled far to reach this place. Almost died several times getting here. Would I do that for a lie?"
"Men have done more for less," Elder Dorn said, speaking for the first time. His voice was deep, resonant. "Power. Glory. The chance to be remembered as a hero."
"I don't want to be a hero," I said truthfully. "I just want to fulfill what I was shown."
"And what of Torsten?" Tannin asked. "The slavers you traveled with?"
I felt Laina stiffen beside me. This was dangerous territory.
"A means to an end," I said, meeting Tannin's gaze. "The vision showed me the path, not the companions. When they found me, I recognized they were headed where I needed to go."
"So you allowed yourself to be enslaved?" Elder Mora's tone made it clear she didn't believe me.
I shrugged. "It seemed simpler than trying to convince them to take me along willingly."
"And now?" Tannin pressed. "Now that Torsten lies near death from the cold? What is your path forward?"
I glanced at Laina before answering. "I still need to reach the Temple. With or without Torsten."
"The Temple of Echoes lies beyond the Sorrow Range," Elder Harek said, leaning forward. "No one crosses the Sorrow Range alone and lives."
"I won't be alone," I replied. "Laina has agreed to guide me."
This caused a stir among the elders. Tannin's good eye narrowed.
"Is this true?" he asked Laina.
She nodded once, her posture defiant. "It is."
"You know what happened the last time people ventured to that accursed place," Elder Senna said, her voice tight with emotion. "Your father—"
"I know what happened to my father," Laina interrupted. "Better than anyone."
Elder Dorn raised a hand, silencing the brewing argument. "The question isn't whether Laina will guide him. The question is whether we should allow either of them to go at all."
I tensed. This was the crux of it—would they try to stop me?
Tannin studied me, his milky eye seeming to see through all my careful half-truths. "Tell me, Isaiah Angelo from somewhere warm. Why should we believe your visions? Why should we risk one of our own on your quest?"
The room fell silent, all eyes on me. This was the moment that would determine everything—whether I'd leave Visall with their blessing or have to sneak away in the night.
I leaned forward, meeting Tannin's gaze directly.
"Because you've tried everything else," I said softly. "Because years of endless winter has brought you to the edge of extinction. Because deep down, you know the answer isn't here in Visall. It's there, in that Temple, where the curse began."
I gestured around the hall. "Look at your people. How many more winters can they endure? How many more Reflector attacks? How many more children born into a world that's slowly freezing to death?"
Elder Mora's hands trembled slightly. "We've survived this long."
"Surviving isn't living," I countered. "And even survival has its limits."
Tannin exchanged glances with the other elders. Something unspoken passed between them.
"You speak of the Winter King," he said finally. "What do you know of him?"
This was what I'd been waiting for—a chance to learn more about the entity I was supposed to defeat.
"Only what my visions showed me," I said. "A figure on a throne of ice. A crown of frost. Eyes like the void between stars."
Elder Dorn nodded slowly. "That matches the old descriptions."
"Tell me everything," I said, leaning forward. "If I'm to face him, I need to know what he is. How he came to be. Why he cursed this land."
The elders exchanged glances again. Then Tannin nodded to Elder Senna, who rose from her seat and approached the fire. She took a handful of powder from a pouch at her belt and cast it into the flames. They flared blue-white, casting eerie shadows across the hall.
"Listen well, outlander," she said, her voice taking on a rhythmic quality. "For this is the tale of how winter became eternal, and how a king became a curse..."